


Apollo 11

by Elmer_s_s0cks



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: 1969 AU, Anthony Higgins, Armed Robbery, Detectives, Dwight Williams, Eliasz Kasprzak, Francis Sullivan - Freeform, Heist, Michael Williams - Freeform, New York, Police, Theft, albert dasilva - Freeform, thomas martin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmer_s_s0cks/pseuds/Elmer_s_s0cks
Summary: It’s July 1969, New York; and David Jacobs is a detective who has a whole lot on his plate. However, he finds himself in a bigger plot than he’d bargained for, all just because he needed a little cash.





	1. The Missing Man

_“His names Francis Sullivan, aged twenty-one, he’s got a background in armed robbery and carjacking-“_

_“Murder?”_

_“No.”_

_David Jacobs sighed, a pen in his mouth as he thought about what steps he was supposed to take next._

_“Sir?”_

_David looked up, “Hm?”_

_“Are we going to follow this lead?”_

_“No, it’s not him.” David said._

_“How do you know?”_

_“Because, it involved murder, and this Sullivan guy? He doesn’t do murder.” David explained, “He doesn’t have the stomach for it.”_

_He waved his colleague off when they gave him a questioning look. David didn’t need to be questioned on the matter because, he’d been chasing this guy down ever since he’d entered the police as an assistant; and now he’d taken up this position, well…He was no further in his search of taking the guy down._

_Francis Sullivan had mastered the art of armed robbery, having two of the biggest banks in America already under his belt, and had gotten away each time, and for all David knew, he had done It alone. But that wasn’t possible. So, he’d labelled him to be with a ghost team._

_And then, this Sullivan guy had vanished off of the face of the earth._

* * *

 

_Five years later..._

“I want one of those wipe-boards.” Racetrack said.

Jack had been talking when Racetrack had interrupted him, and he stopped. “What?”

“You know, one of those wipe-boards with the red pens.” Race said further, punctuating his point by darting his finger around the air like it was a pen.

“One of those…What? What are you on?” Jack looked at him weirdly.

Racetrack sighed exasperatedly. “The fancy red pens and the see-through boards! Are you an idiot?”

“He’s talking’ about a dry-erase board, one of those clear glass ones.” Albert said, “He wants one of those.”

Race grinned, “You see? This is why Al’s my favourite.” And he leaned over and messed up the red-head’s hair.

“Get outta here.” Jack said, rolling his eyes when Racetrack just grinned at him.

“So, add it to the list, cowboy.” Race said.

“What do you need a board for? You got a computer.” Jack huffed.

Race quietened down then, “I just wanna feel cool.”

“You can feel ‘cool’ when we’ve all got five million dollars in our pockets. Each.” Tommy Boy walked around the room, as he usually did, stopping in one spot as he urged Jack to carry on.

“Thank you, Tommy; somebody who’s actually listening.” Jack said, looking around the room with his arms out, expecting everybody to be listening. 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t listening.” Tommy said as he leaned against a wall. “I’m just saying cause’, you rented this place until six and it’s already five fifteen; so, you might wanna speed your lecture up a little bit.”

The others laughed, and Jack seemed to give up then, getting back on track. Despite all of that, he wrote down Racetrack’s dry-erase board request.

* * *

 

David ran his hands through his hair with slight frustration; he was more than stressed out from the day he’d had. If he’d known this job would have come with more paperwork than it was worth, then he would have just gotten a job in a bar or something.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” Katherine said as she stood in front of David’s desk. She was holding what seemed to be more paperwork.

“I’m trying to solve a case, Katherine; excuse me for ‘thinking too hard’.” He said. He rolled back in his chair, “Sorry, sorry.”

Katherine was hardly offended by her friend’s outburst. She set the papers down, her nails polished and ready for work. She always said that her type-writer deserved the best hands. Despite the sweep of technology, she wouldn’t be letting that old thing go anytime soon.

“Which case? It’s after hours, so I’m assuming you mean-“

“The unsolved one from five years ago? Yes, it’s driving me insane.” David said. “I don’t even care who did the damn thing anymore, or what it was even about. I just want to know where that goddamn guy went.” He slammed his pen down on the desk.

Katherine looked at him fondly. He’d never been good with being angry, it just didn’t suit him. “Well, I don’t think you’re ever gonna find out.” She said. “And I think-“ She walked around the desk, patting him on the back as she read over his shoulder. “-That you should put the darn thing away. It’s been five years, Dave. Let it go.”

“I can’t. Someone was murdered, Kath; I can’t just let that go. And even more so, the only lead we’d gotten was one guy. He couldn’t have run the entire operation alone…It was just out of character for a murder to happen when, every single one of his operations before had had no victims.” David looked up at Katherine. “Just…Don’t you think it’s odd?”

“Yeah, of course I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that, we’re never gonna know what happened.” She pulled up a chair, “Here, if you’re gonna focus on something, focus on this.” And she pulled across a file that she had sat on the edge of his desk. “It was reported this morning.”

David hoped this wouldn’t mean even more work. But it couldn’t hurt to focus on something more recent. “What is it?” He asked.

“A murder.”

* * *

 

“Are you kidding me!?” Ike snapped, hitting the back of his brother’s head. “Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Stop giving me grief.” Mike said, shoving his brother’s hand away from him. “I told you, I didn’t do it.”

“Shut up, I’m tryna’ work.” Elmer mumbled as he swabbed at a graze on Mike’s arm.

Ike shook his head, pacing the small medical room and practically radiating anxiety.

“I don’t see why you’re so worried about this, we haven’t done anything yet.” Mike jumped a little at the cool touch of Elmer’s fingers. “I thought doctors were supposed to be warm fingered?”

“He’s not a real doctor.” Ike grumbled.

Elmer glared, mainly at the wound that he was inspecting. “I’m more of a doctor than you’ll ever be.”

Mike held back a scoff at his brother’s expense, getting put in your place by Elmer, of all people, was a cause to laugh at.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” Mike winced when Elmer brushed a little too hard.

“Suck it up, you’ve had worse.” Elmer said. “What happened anyway? You never did say. Getting grazed by a bullet is a cause for concern, with what we do and all.”

Ike would say it was none of his business, after all, he liked to keep things between him and his brother; and by the way he’d been scolding him minutes ago, Elmer guessed he already knew what had happened.

Mike shrugged, watching Elmer throw away the cotton swab he’d been using. “I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“He was putting his nose where it didn’t belong, is what he was doing.” Ike poking Mike in his good arm.

“Well? Stop speaking in riddles, and out with it.” Elmer said.

Mike glanced at Ike for a moment, both of them deciding that sharing the problem would be better than Mike confronting Jack about it alone.

“I was just out, you know, and-“

“We’re not supposed to go out.” Ike butted in, “And you know why.”

“I know, alright? I know. But I was bored.” Mike rolled his eyes, “Anyway. So, I went out, found this little bar, and there was this guy there. He was sprouting his mouth full of shit about Jack, and I…Well, I did what any of us would have done, I punched him in the face!”

“No, you didn’t.” Elmer said.

“Yeah? How do you know?” Mike protested.

“Because your knuckles aren’t bruised. And you punch like a new-born kitten.” Elmer replied easily, taking his medical gloves off and binning them. “You’re done now.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I didn’t punch him, I didn’t get the chance to before he pulled his gun out.” Mike carried on with the story. “It was more of a warning shot for me. It still got to me though.”

Ike huffed out a breath, “Kelly ain’t gonna like that we’ve got a murder on our hands.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Mike said. “But there is another thing…”

Mike looked at Ike as he hesitated, and then gave him a nod. “The guy that fired the shot…He’s big trouble. For all of us.”

“Is it?” Elmer asked.

“Yeah, it’s him.” Mike confirmed.

* * *

 

 ****“A guy with the name of Sean Conlon was arrested earlier this evening for the murder.” Katherine said, getting David up to speed with what he’d missed by not being in the meetings this morning.

“Anything of significance?” David asked, the file in his hand. “Apart from this Sean guy already being on record.”

“No, not attached to the murder. It looks as if it’d been more of a warning shot gone wrong. That’s what witnesses say.” Katherine said. She looked at David, “There is one thing though.”

David looked up from the file.

“He said he knows who you’re looking for.” She said.

“What do you mean?” David was confused, for obvious reasons.

“He says he knows something about Francis Sullivan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is an experiment kind of thing. I usually plan out my fics, and this one is rather spontaneous.  
> Leave kudos and a comment if you wanna read more (I’ll probably write more anyway, lmao)


	2. Messing Up and Not Giving Up

“Are you kidding me right now?” Jack looked at Mike, a picture of anger on his face. “Are you actually kidding me?”

“It was an accident!” Mike defended himself.

“Yeah, an accident where you walked out of this building, onto the streets, and then got a guy shot.” Tommy Boy piped in from across the room. He was always at a distance unless he was on a job, that was just how he was. “But yeah, it was just an accident.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Fuck off. Haven’t you got people to be chatting up?”

Tommy didn’t look away from Mike as he asked, “I dunno. Do I, Jack?”

“No. We’ve gotta lay low for longer because, Mike here, is an idiot. So, no, Tommy; you’ve got no jobs at the moment.”  Jack replied.

Mike felt ganged up on, to say the least, but really, it was his fault. However, if he thought about it logically, then it would have happened anyway.

From what they knew, Spot wasn’t the type of guy to just sit around and wait on everyone; and by what Jack had told them, well, Spot was definitely not on their side in this, despite his knowledge on the topic.

They had a team (which Jack had gotten together), and honestly, Mike wasn’t complaining because, work was work, and this was what he was best at.

Jack Kelly wasn’t just anybody, in fact, he had a lot of winnings under his belt and that made him a man to be reckoned with. Surviving since he was a kid with great slight of hand, he was now twenty-six and leader of a group of 7, including himself. They had a plan to carry out, and it wasn’t just any plan.

“Are you actually in this for any reason despite, being on my case 24/7.” Mike asked Tommy Boy rather unkindly.

Tommy looked him up and down, shrugging as he said, “Uh, yeah. For the five million dollars I’m gonna get out of this. Then, I’ll be on my merry little way.”

Jack looked between the two of them, practically feeling the sexual tension. But then again, he got that vibe from any person Tommy looked at.

Mike huffed out a frustrated breath, turning to Jack, “Why is he even here? Right now, I mean. He doesn’t need to be here right this moment, does he?”

“Well, no.” Jack said. “But he’s good company. His humour spices things up a bit, otherwise, me having ago at you would be very dull.”

“You’re a fucking moron, Kelly.” Mike glared at him, pushing past Tommy Boy on his way to the door as he exited.

Jack thought about it for a moment. “Eh, I’ve been called worse.”

Tommy seemed to think about it to, smirking as he recalled a time previously when Jack had been cursed out immensely by a barmaid.

“You need me for anything? Or can I go and irritate Mikey some more?” Tommy asked, already beginning to turn on his heel.

“He hates it when people call him that.” Jack said, referring to Tommy’s use of Mike’s 'nickname' that he loathed; but then he thought about Tommy’s question. “Actually.” He started, “I have got a job for you.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, interest peaking.

* * *

 

David tried to compose himself as he walked down the police station corridor. He was nervous, and for good reason. He’d read Sean Conlon’s file and it didn’t sit well with him that he’d been personally requested by the man. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Are you...sweating?” Katherine asked.

“What?” David looked at her in panic, stopping his nervous walk and looking at her. “I am? Where?”

She broke out into a smile. “I’m kidding, Dave. Just relax. This guy is hardly gonna jump out of the chair and choke you.”

By the look on David’s face, he hadn’t found the joke funny.

Katherine shook her head, gently pushing him forward. “Just go in there and do your job.”

And then she left him alone, going off to get some more paperwork filed and to write reports up. She wasn’t a detective like David, she was (as some people put it) ‘just a reporter’. They said it like she didn’t matter, when in fact, she did a hell of a lot more than some of the other people in this place.

She’d get fired if she voiced that though.

* * *

 

David walked in, and the first thing he noticed was how…short this guy was, even sat down. He wanted to look under the table to see if his feet touched the floor or not; but that wasn’t appropriate.

“Nervous?” Sean asked.

David tried not to let the amusement in his tone get to him.

“No, just working.” David replied.

“Do you always sweat through your work, Mr…?”

“Jacobs. And no.”

David sat down across from Sean, subconsciously reaching up and loosening his tie. It was a bit warm in here.

“Relax, chief. I’m hardly gonna jump you.” Sean moved his hands, well, as much as he could; the hands cuffs scraping against the metal surface.

David wasn’t believing the nice act, and as he re-shuffled his papers, he realized that Sean was calculating his every move. He suddenly felt like he was the one about to be asked all of the questions.

“So, tell me, Mr. Jacobs; do you often sweat during interviews?”

“It’s just my cologne.” David thought he was being clever by using that as an answer, but it obviously hadn’t.

It was silent again, like Sean Conlon had ran out of smart things to say, when in fact, he was just waiting for the right time.

David got his pen ready, smoothing down the paper before asking, “Name?”

“You already know that.” Sean said.

“Name?”

“Sean Conlon.”

“Age?” David asked.

“Twenty-Eight.” Sean clicked his tongue, “And you?”

David looked up at him from his notes. “Pardon?”

“Your age, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Twenty-Seven.” David answered.

Sean nodded, like he was getting more than just a number from the detective.

“So, Mr. Conlon-“

“Do you do this part of the job a lot?” Sean asked, having interrupted David’s beginning statement.

David didn’t react physically. “Not really, no. But my colleague said you asked for me.”

“I did.” Sean said.

“Well, here I am.” David said, feeling like he was on top again.

Sean raised his eyebrow. “That you are.”

“So?” David said.

He pushed his notepad away from him, leaning back in his chair and waiting for Sean to give him all of the answers. He was right, he wasn’t an expert in this part of the job; but what happened behind closed doors, stayed behind closed doors. That was just how corrupt the system was these days.

“What’s in it for me?” Sean laughed at David’s expression; how his trade of thought now appeared lost. “I’m joking. Like you said, it’s just me and you. I know you’ll see it my way by the end, and when you do, you’ll let me go scot-free.”

* * *

 

David hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted, not quite yet. He’d left Sean Conlon back at the station in a cell that would be his new home until David di have what he wanted from him. The thing that frustrated him the most was that, Sean hadn’t even said the name Francis Sullivan in their entire conversation this evening. He was beginning to think that this wasn’t the right lead, yet again; even after five years, he still wasn’t getting it right. But every time that name was mentioned, David went running in blind with no lead but his own gut instinct. It hadn’t been too right so far, but he was beginning to think that there was more to it than that, and he’d find out from Sean eventually; he’d just have to sit through every one of his stories.

“Davey!”

David was snapped out of his head at the voice that would always draw him back.

“Hey, Les.”


	3. Dustin Hoffman < Paul McCartney

Jack’s ‘job’ for him was easy as pie, really.

Tommy Boy had been told to clean Mike’s mess up – whatever it took. There wasn’t much left once he got to the bar where things had gone down. There were no officers there anymore, just the police tape wound around the scene.

Besides, why should the authorities stick around if they’d already gotten their guy? The poor sucker who’d been killed had obviously not been important enough for a full news report.

Tommy scoffed; pathetic.  

“Is there a reason you’re here, darlin’?”

Tommy looked up from his seat at the bar.

“Incase you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly somewhere that’s got a five-star rating, with what just happened.” The barmaid said.

“Yet, you’re still open.” Tommy raised an eyebrow at her.

She didn’t budge.

“I’ll have rum and coke, please, _darlin’_.” Maybe that would get her to stop looking at him like he was a ghost that had just walked in.

Clearly, she was still spooked by the incident – if she’d even seen it happen. Though Tommy wasn’t a mind reader, there was this look in her eye that showed anybody on the outside that she was replaying the incident in her mind.

So, she must have seen it happen.

She looked him up and down. “Any ID?”

Tommy tried really, really hard not to laugh at that. He’d shot people down more than once, yet, he was being asked for his ID. The things people had to go through to get a simple rum and coke around here.

“You’re really asking me for my ID, when a man just shot somebody down in here not too many hours ago?”

Her cheeks turned a little red, and she set to work with his drink.

Tommy took his time looking around the joint from where he was sat. Naturally, it was quiet. People were busy watching the small box hung in the corner of the bar.

The TV was showing images of what Tommy assumed was to do with the upcoming expedition to space. He didn’t take much interest in it, despite the only important fact: it was the perfection distraction for what they had planned.

He turned his attention back to the barmaid once she placed his drink in front of him.

“So.” He started. “Anything suspicious happen when it all…happened?”

“What? Are you some kind of detective or something? I already told the cops everything that happened.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not a cop. Just a curious guy with time to kill.” Tommy said.

She narrowed her eyes.

He watched her eyesight travel from his face, down his chest and perhaps even further as her gaze then made its way back up to his eyeline.

“Well, if you’ve got time to kill, Mr.…” She looked at him expectantly.

This was where things would get difficult. His real name – Thomas Martin – was off the record. There was no way he’d ever be able to use that name in the business that he was in; none of them were allowed to use their real name. But that was what made it all so fun.

He could be anybody.

“Hoffman.” He said. It was the first name that popped into his mind.

“Like Dustin Hoffman?” She asked.

Tommy huffed out a breath. “The one and only.”

“That’s…strange.”

Well, he’d never gotten a response like that before. Maybe he should have gone for Paul McCartney. Women always loved the English blokes.

Tommy Boy took a sip of his drink, swirling the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it.

“Anyway.” She said. “If you’ve got time to kill, _Mr. Hoffman_ , I get off in about two hours. Come back and meet me, if you’re interested that is.”

“Sure, I’m interested.” Tommy said.

The barmaid scribbled down on a piece of paper from her notepad, tearing it out and sliding it, rather seductively, beside his unfinished drink.  

“I’ll see you later.”

Tommy took that as his cue to leave, despite not finishing his drink. He pulled out a few dollar bills, taking the piece of paper and placing them in the space where the note had sat.

“Sure thing, _darlin’_.” Tommy winked at her, grabbing his jacket and making his way out of the bar.

The piece of paper had a time on it, two hours from now (so, about nine in the evening), along with a name.

Sarah.

A pretty name for a pretty girl, though really, Tommy wasn’t into pretty as much as he was handsome.

* * *

 

“Did you catch any criminals at work today?” Les asked enthusiastically.

“What is it with you and criminals? And no, I didn’t. Or rather, that stuff is classified, and not for nosey little brothers to know about.” David said.

Les pouted at him from where he was sat on the hospital bed.

David hated this place, but he figured that Les hated it more. He’d been in and out of the hospital for a few months now, and the bills were beginning to rack up.

Sure, David was the highest earning member of their family; with their father having passed away a few years ago, his mother only working in a café across the street from her home, and his sister working two jobs day in and day out – David already knew that his ‘high ranking’ detective gig was just about the highest they were getting.

Yet, despite his calculations, the more frequent hospital visits weren’t being covered.

Maybe if David didn’t have a wife and two kids to feed, he’d be able to pay for his brother’s health care…But he would never, ever wish them away. They were the ones that were getting him through this shit.

That, and the way Les still managed to smile so brightly whenever he walked through the door; even if his body was multiplying cancerous cells that would eventually kill him if David couldn’t pay for his treatment.

“Why can’t I know?” Les asked.

David recalled what they’d been talking about.

“Because, you’re not on a need to know basis.” David ruffled his hair, “When you start filling out paper work at the station, maybe I’ll let you in on _some_ stuff.”

Les was eleven, a whole sixteen years younger than David, and ten years younger than his sister. He was a pretty intelligent kid with a cheeky charm that had all the nurses wrapped around his little finger.

Extra Jell-O didn’t fix this mess though.

“Get me a pen and I’ll do it!” Les said.

David shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I feel a lot better though, honest. The doctor told mom earlier that I might even be able to go home at the end of the week.”

The hopeful information that David couldn’t bring himself to believe.

“Yeah, I know, bud.”

Les smiled at him, then yawned.

“I’ll stay whilst you sleep, if you want?”

Les nodded, “Yeah, I like that idea.” He mumbled.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, and even if he did feel better, David knew that it was only a matter of time before, yet another bug hit that his already weakened immune system would struggle to fight against.

Life just wasn’t fair.

* * *

 

Tommy Boy had quite enjoyed his little stroll back to HQ. God, he needed a better name to call it than that. Racetrack’s ‘HQ’ idea had been stuck in his head because, it was so stupid.

He’d just call it ‘prison’ for now; since Jack was so set on keeping them all there whilst his little (big) plan was being bounced around the place.

Really though, the seven of them were just hauled up in a warehouse not far from all of the action. Big enough to house them all without stepping on each other’s toes, but small enough not to look too out of place.

The part that made it clever was that, if any cops ever did come a knockin’, then the warehouse’s front (a factory style set up that ‘made’ shoes) disguised the place enough that nothing was ever suspicious.

There were even shoes, believe it or not – and fake workers that Jack paid to, well, not act fake.

Everything was going to plan. Everything except for the bar incident.

Anything that could be traced back to them was a bad situation. Even if it had just been the mention of a name.

“Hey, Mikey.” Tommy said as he walked into the more homely part of the warehouse itself – the back.

Mike glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Tommy Boy held his hands up in mock defense, and Mike saw the small bit of paper in his hand, sticking up between his fingers.

“What’s that?” Mike reached for it, snatching it from Tommy’s hand.

Tommy had obviously let him, a smirk playing at his lips when Mike’s annoyance at him deflated when he clearly red the girl’s name on the paper.

“It’s just a job, _Mikey_ , don’t worry about it.” He said.

Mike went back to glaring at him, and he shoved the bit of paper against Tommy’s chest, and Tommy put his hand over it – and over Mike’s hand – before he could pull away.

“Something wrong, _Mikey_?”

The awful nickname tipped Mike a little more over the edge. “Don’t act like someone you’re not just because Kelly gave you a job to do.”

“Yeah, and what does _that_ mean?” Tommy pushed a bit more.

Mike scrunched the paper up, as much as he could, against Tommy’s chest and under his hand. He leant forward and kissed him; a bit rough for his usual taste, but the way Tommy reacted, he knew he was doing something right.

It was only a moment, and Mike pulled away, feeling smug at how Tommy followed him for a second. “That’s how it feels to be led on.” Mike said.

“Message received…” Tommy mumbled; their lips close together again.

“You get more when you come back, and you _haven’t_ fucked the barmaid.” Mike pulled his hand away and moved past Tommy and out of the hallway.

Tommy Boy felt his chest tug at him, and really, that seemed fair.

* * *

 

After Les had fallen asleep for the night, David had left. It reasonable, really. He’d be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He’d always be back for his brother. But right now, he had a job to do.

“Back so soon?” Sean said.

David didn’t let his words phase him. “You said you know Francis Sullivan?”

Sean cocked an eyebrow at him, shifting his hands to make the cuffs more comfortable on his wrists.

“It’s nice to see that you’ve stop shitting in your boots coming through that doorway to see me.”

David rolled his eyes. So, maybe this guy still got to him. “Well?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Sean said. “And I also know that you’re in a sticky place with money right now.”  
That freaked David out a bit. How did this guy – this criminal – know that? He didn’t ask, he didn’t care. Not right now.

“Tell me what you know about Francis Sullivan.” David demanded.

Sean sighed. “There’s a guy who I think you’ll find really interesting.”

David stayed quiet, signaling for him to carry on.

“You’re gonna want to get your paper ready for this one.”

So, David did. “Go on.”

“There’s a guy, goes by the name of Jack Kelly.”

 

 


	4. Sarah and that goddamn smile

Just like the paper said, Tommy Boy was back at the bar. He was a man of his word, and he had a job to do.

In terms of ‘the cleanup’ there wasn’t much he could do. Man shoots, man gets killed, Mike’s still an idiot. So really, all that was left for Tommy Boy to do was, get any information from the barmaid.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come back.” The barmaid said.

Tommy had to stop calling her that – the paper said ‘Sarah’.

“You gave me cause to.” He said.

The bar was empty, except for them.

She’d cleaned up and shut up shop – nine in the evening. Of course, that was early hours to close a bar, but not many people were aching to get inside this joint after what had happened.

“So, what happened?” Tommy asked.

Sarah looked at him, “You’re still on that?”

“Yeah. I’m a persistent guy.”

“Wow, you sure know how to sweep a lady off of her feet.”

That made Tommy think of Mike, and what he’d said to him. Though it had been yet another opportunity for Tommy to get on his nerves, what he’d said to him made his gut turn a little.

‘Don’t act like someone you’re not just because Kelly gave you a job to do.’

He was right, of course, Mike was always right. But he did have a job to do, and this barmaid – Sarah – was obviously into him; and if that was how he’d get the job done then he’d take it.

Besides, it wasn’t as if the entire world was in acceptance of who he felt he was – who Mike wanted him to be.

“I’d say your name to get your attention but, something tells me that ‘Hoffman’ isn’t your name.” Sarah said.

She must have caught the vacant look on his face because, she placed her hand gently on his cheek as she stepped closer to him.

“You got me.” He mumbled.

“You’re an odd one, I’ll give you that.”

Tommy nodded a little, “Well, I did say my last name was Hoffman, you just assumed my first.”  
“Oh, pardon me for _assuming_ that your first name was Dustin. You didn’t give me much to work with.”

“It’s Thomas.” He said.

Sarah appeared taken back by that, like she hadn’t expected him to actually give her an answer.

“You look like a Thomas.”

Tommy gave her a weird look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I would have guessed it eventually.” She laughed.

Her laugh was like golden syrup – and now Tommy was the one thinking ridiculous thoughts. How had he come to that conclusion? He’d known her for only a few hours, yet he’d be willing to tell her all of his troubles.

“Do I know you?” He asked.

Sarah shook her head, smiling at him all the while. “No, I doubt it. I’d remember a handsome face like yours.”

He’d never been one to enjoy compliments thrown his way, but he caught this one.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Why’d you write your name?” He asked.

“I thought that would be obvious.” Sarah whispered, her faces inches from his.

It had been obvious, but with Mike in his head, he was second guessing his gut instinct, and that was always scary.

He kissed her.

With a face like hers, someone who was sure of what she wanted, who was he to refuse?  
A moment of vulnerability had caught him and wrapped him up so tightly that, Tommy was sure he would have kissed anybody who had been stood in front of him in that moment. However, the only eyes that opened and shone in his mind were Mike’s…And how they looked at him with expectancy and disappointment all at the same time.

They’d ended up upstairs in the end. Apparently, the bar was also a hostel type place, harboring a few bedrooms upstairs for people passing by – or quick lays.

He’d gone along with it all, enjoying letting lose and the tension easing from his body with each and every movement he took. She wasn’t the worst looking girl – she was actually rather pretty, and Tommy was actually enjoying himself. Well, he always did.

Her head was laid on his bare chest, the covers intertwined with their legs like some twisted pastry. His fingers ran smoothly along her shoulder blades.

Her eyes were closed, and Tommy took that moment to place a kiss on the top of her head. He didn’t know why though.

“I wouldn’t have taken you as somebody to stay this long…” Sarah mumbled.

Tommy didn’t answer for a few minutes, just letting the moment remain.

Then he did.

“Guess you’re not as good at reading people as you originally thought.” Tommy Boy said.

Sarah let out that sweet laugh again, and Tommy felt bad that this had only happened because, he had been trying to wrap up lose ends.

He dreaded to think what he’d have done if she’d ended up being an intentional part of it all. He dreaded even more that; he hadn’t even asked that yet. So really, his actions had been to break through whatever walls she had and make her trust him.

“Did you know the guy that made the shot?”

Sarah opened her eyes, sighing as she said, “You’re right, you are persistent.”

She moved to sit up, but Tommy Boy wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t move, it’s comfy.”

“Okay.”

It was quiet for a few more moments.

“No, I didn’t know him.” Sarah said. “But I heard the cops take his name, if that’s anything to you?”

“How’d you hear that?”

“My brother’s a detective. I’ve learned to be sharp over the years if I wanted information.”

Tommy felt like that was a dig at all of his questions, but he let it slide.

“What’s his name?”

“Sean. Sean Conlon.”

And that was what Tommy had come for – a name in order to confirm everything that they already knew. Sean Conlon wasn’t going to let their actions down easy, and Tommy figured that having Sarah on his side was worth all of the effort after all.

He pretended to look at the clock on the bedside table, not actually interested in the time at all.

“I should get going.” He said.

Sarah didn’t protest, letting him sit up and begin to get dressed. She remained on the bed; the covers wrapped around her.

“You’re not even gonna ask me for my last name, Thomas?”

The way she said it made this room feel like a fairytale – as if Tommy was actually some sort of white knight that had saved her from something. He didn’t care enough to ask.

“Is it Hoffman?” Tommy said, buttoning his shirt up.

Sarah seemed to ignore his idle jibe at his own lack of creativity. “No, it’s Jacobs.”

“Suits you.”

“Wouldn’t mind making it Hoffman after that though.” She teased.

Tommy narrowed his eyes at her, pulling the air born information that she was actually joking.

“Ha, ha.” He said, sarcasm laced in the expression of his words.

“So, now that you know _my_ full name, maybe I’ll actually get yours one day.”

“Maybe.”

“Tom…”

Jesus Christ, they’d not even spent a day together and she was already pulling out nicknames.

“What?” He asked, a little impatient now.

She must have caught it because, whatever soft tone had been placed there was now gone.

“Nothing. Don’t forget I owe you a drink. You didn’t finish the last one, _Hoffman_.”

Tommy chuckled at that, nodding and warding off the bad mood that had suddenly crept on top of him.

“I’ll see you later, Sarah Jacobs.”

But before he could escape, there was a word that gripped at his shirt collar and threatened to strangle him.

“Promise?”

He wasn’t good with promises, but if the job called for it…

“I promise.”

* * *

 

Mike’s arm hadn’t been bothering him as much as Tommy Boy had, but he’d expected that.

“Woah, steady on.” He grumbled when Elmer pressed on his arm and around the wound a little bit too hard.

“Stop being a baby.” Elmer said. “You’re the one that mouthed off to Conlon, so, you’re the one that has to pay the consequences.”

“Are the consequences you trying to rip my arm off?”

Elmer ignored him, cleaning his wound and wrapping it back up again.

“It’s healing nicely, Mike. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mike said.

He put his arm back in his shirt sleeve, still sat on the table where he’d been for the past ten minutes.

“You feeling alright?” Elmer asked.

Mike looked over at him, clearly miserable with a few things. “Yeah, fine.”

“Fine?”

“Well, you know. I’m guess I’m just a bit shaken up over what happened. That bullet was meant for me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. Conlon never misses a shot.”

“Elmer, that doesn’t make me feel better.” Mike said.

Elmer felt a little embarrassed by that. “Yeah, sorry.”

Mike waved his hand, meaning for him not to worry about it.

Elmer wasn’t the smartest in the group for common sense (granted, he wasn’t the worst), but he could tell that something more was worrying him.

“Mike, I know that bottling things up ain’t gonna help in any way.” He said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I also know that, somebody who looks as miserable as you, there’s gotta be something wrong.”

“Boy troubles.”

Elmer’s face turned sympathetic at the two simple words that held a weight so fine that it left Mike sinking.

“Don’t worry about it.” Was all Elmer could offer him, even when he didn’t know the specifics of it.

However, this place they lived in wasn’t without it’s perks. They each tended to pick up on each other’s problems rather easily, and Elmer knew it had something to do with Tommy Boy.

“Wow, thanks.” Mike said.

“Guys!” Racetrack called, barging into the small room where most of their medical supplies were. (Which was why Elmer was regularly there.)

“What is it Race?” Elmer asked.

“Albert says there’s a guy here.”  

Elmer and Mike looked at each other, wondering what Race could mean.

* * *

 

Sean Conlon had given him an address, and David went against his instinct to share the information with his colleagues. He was going alone. If Sean was right, and this guy knew something about Francis Sullivan, then David needed to hear it for himself in a room with just himself and Jack Kelly.

He wasn’t expecting the address to lead him to a…shoe factory?

David stepped inside, anticipation mixed with anxiety that whisked at his brain and nipped at his heels. He needed this to be everything he needed.

Five years was too long without a lead on Francis Sullivan. It had been too long that, David was beginning to forget why he’d even been clinging onto the case for all this time. But he needed answers to everything.

“Hello?” He called out.

It wasn’t long before a guy noticed him, looking the intruder up and down before walking off again.

“Hey!” David called after him.

He was then met with a new face, a guy with red hair.

That poor guy.

“There a reason you’re here? Most people get their shoes from a shoe _shop_ , not the factory itself.” He said.

David felt his cheeks heat up at the audacity of this guy – and then he felt even more irritated when he heard Sean’s words in his head; how the guy always mocked him.

Maybe he was too easy to wind up.

David put himself back on the poll as he got his badge out.

“I’m detective Jacobs. I’m here to ask a few questions about the incident from the bar.”

It was the first thing that had come to mind, yet it seemed to be the wrong thing to say. The red head glared at him before easing back into a passive-aggressive stance.

“Follow me.”

So, David did.

* * *

 

Jack was looking at this guy with a smirk on his face. As if he didn’t know why he was even here.

“I do know why I’m here.” David said, insisting once again.

“I’m not sure you do, Mr. Jacobs.” Jack crossed his arms. “You say you’re here to question about what happened at that bar, when I keep telling you that this place had nothing to do with it. We’re a shoe factory. We’re not hiding guns under the machinery.”

They were hiding a whole lot more, but that wasn’t the point.

“Look, I’m here-“

“Because?” Jack said.

David sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with a false demeanor. He took the paper out of his pocket and handed it to Jack.

“I was told to come and speak to you about something.”

Jack waited for him to carry on.

“About a guy called Francis Sullivan.”

Jack kept his cool, folding up the piece of paper and handing it back to him.

“Anyone particular who sent you?”

David nodded, “Yeah, but I’m not inclined to give you that information.”

It was Jack’s turn to nod. He pulled out a chair from the table that resided in the break room of the factory.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never heard of this Francis Sullivan guy.”

David was desperate, and he didn’t believe him.

“Alright, I’ll tell you.” He said, “Sean Conlon sent me. Do you know him?”

Ah, now Jack knew everything, it was all adding up now. How Sean Conlon – known as Spot in his world – wasn’t on the best of terms with him. How he’d shot a warning shot at Mike in the bar, killed a random citizen, only to get caught for losing his temper. Now, he’d sent this cop here to snuff out anything that Jack may having been brewing.

Two could play at that game.

“Yeah, I know him. We go way, way back.” Jack said. “However, he’s got the wrong end of the stick. I really don’t know anyone who goes by the name of Francis Sullivan.”

David felt defeated. He’d given away his lead and still didn’t have any kind of answer. It had all been a waste of time, and he was beginning to think that, it would have been better to have just locked Sean away for manslaughter.

“Thank you for your time.” David said.

“It’s no problem, Mr. Jacobs. Take care now.”

Jack watched him go, and once he left, fury filled his features.

Spot was seriously out to get him and spilling a name he hadn’t used for years now was really tipping him over the edge.

“Albert!”

Albert appeared not long after he’d called for him.

“What is it, boss?”

Jack grimaced at the name, “Shut up.”

Albert stood in the doorway waiting for him to speak.

“Is Tommy back yet?”

“As far as I know. I think he’s out on the floor talking to the workers-“

Albert’s words were interrupted when Tommy was suddenly stood next to him.

“You’re an idiot, Kelly. A goddamn idiot.” Tommy Boy snapped.

Jack didn’t snap back, only waited for Tommy’s temper to sizzle out.

“That guy that just left, he’s a fucking cop. He’s related to that fucking barmaid who I went to see. It’s obvious.”

“I know he’s a cop, but that’s some information that could actually do us some good.” Jack said.

Albert looked between Tommy Boy and Jack, and he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Keep in check with that barmaid, Tommy Boy. Albert, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yeah, what do you need?” Albert asked.

“How does a little road trip sound?”

Albert grinned, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 


	5. It's go time.

Mike wasn’t an idiot, despite what his brother said.

He often fell in head over heels for what he wanted, and ever since Jack had formed their little group, he’d fallen head over heels for Tommy Boy. God, if he actually said that then, he’d be the stump of everyone’s jokes.

That was one of Jack’s rules: No strings attached, not even for family.

As if Mike was going to follow that rule; he had a brother in on this as well.

He sighed to himself. Whatever Racetrack had been excited about earlier had dwindled away – along with him by the looks of it. Race had disappeared along with Albert some time ago.

Mike didn’t know who the guy who came to visit was, he didn’t really care either. Elmer had gone on to ask questions about him, and had followed wherever Racetrack had gone, before the two of them had come back. Back and forth until Race had left with Albert, and Elmer had left the room on his own terms to do…whatever it was that Elmer’s do.

Mike was alone with his thoughts.

They kept turning over and over and over again. From Tommy Boy, to Jack’s plans, to his whole position in this thing called life.

The door swung open, and Mike jumped at the sound.

He huffed out a breath. There was only one person in this place who had no respect for furniture.

“Tommy.” Mike greeted him, as if they hadn’t had that moment in the corridor earlier on.

He didn’t even know the time right now, didn’t care for it.

Tommy Boy didn’t answer him, and Mike paid more attention to the tension in his shoulders, and the way his face was anything but pleased.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

He hadn’t expected an answer.

“Kelly’s an idiot.” Tommy grumbled.

“That barmaid really broke you down, huh?”

Mike was just as confused by his comment as Tommy was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy asked, anything but kindly.

He asked Mike that a lot, and Mike was beginning to wonder what he meant by anything these days.

“What did you learn from her?” Mike asked.

Tommy moved across the room, sitting on the worn-out sofa across from Mike.

“What color underwear she had on.”

That made Mike snap into full attention. He was furious.

“And you think that’s funny?”

Tommy nodded. “A little. Since you’re so sure I swing your way.”

Mike was fed up of the accusations. Tommy constantly thought that he was after him…and maybe he was, but that was besides the point. He could see that Tommy hated himself. It was a strong thought and an even stronger accusation that he had yet to make, but Mike could see it.

He didn’t know who he was.

“Fuck off back to being Kelly’s little lap dog.” Mike snapped. “At least that’s somewhere you actually know what you want.”

Mike moved to storm out, but the way Tommy’s head hung low, and how there wasn’t even a hint of a smirk there made him wonder if he was still in the same room as him.

“I don’t not like you.” He said.

Mike didn’t even know what that meant.

“It’s just a job, Mike.”  
“Am I just a job?” Mike asked.

Tommy didn’t answer him, and Mike figured that he was right.

The job was everything to Tommy Boy, and without Jack’s latest big shot plan, Tommy wouldn’t have anything.

At least Mike had his brother; he didn’t know what it was like to be alone.

All he was to Tommy was a bit of fun – a way to ease the tension and relax. They hadn’t done anything, but the light banter between the two of them, and a few kisses here and there were obvious signs that Tommy clearly wanted more out of him.

Mike was beginning to think that he was incapable of any kind of love, and he suddenly felt sorry for the barmaid.

“If you keep putting all of this before anything else, you’re never gonna live, Thomas.” Mike said.

Tommy only looked up after Mike was gone.

He couldn’t place what all of that had been about, but he had said it all.

The way Mike had said his name made him wish that Sarah could have said it again to make him feel less sick.

It was just a job, and feelings couldn’t get in the way of it all.

Tommy had come to the conclusion that; Mike was off the table and he shouldn’t get on his nerves anymore. But really, habits did die hard.

* * *

 

“And Jack thinks that this is good plan because?” Racetrack said.

He was leaning against the window of the car uninterested in this task.

“Ssh, I’m working.” Albert mumbled.

He’d been watching what this David Jacobs guy was doing through the car’s tinted window. They’d pulled up outside the station, which was probably an obvious spot for them to be right now. In fact, it was so obvious that Albert could have just driven here on a pure guess.

This detective guy wasn’t very smart, and that was his opinion. Or maybe it was a fact.

“I get carsick, you know.” Race rolled his eyes, then closing them, still having no interest in the topic.

“Just be glad that Kelly let us out of the office for a few.”

Race nodded, “I guess. But I still hate this.”

He turned to look at Albert, rolling his eyes yet again as he slapped Albert’s hands down, making him drop the pair of binoculars he’d just been using.

“You’re honestly the most obvious ‘spy’ I’ve ever seen. Why don’t you just walk straight on in there and ask him what his coffee order is? And also, what are we even doing here? We’re getting nothing out of this. Tommy Boy got more out of sleeping with that barmaid and pretending he hasn’t been staring holes in Mike’s ass for months.”

Albert stared at Racetrack for a moment, wondering where the heck any of this had come from. But really, that was obvious too.

“Okay…So, you’re saying we should go in there?”

“Maybe? I don’t know…Wait. Al, look.”

Albert went to pick up his binoculars again, but Race hit his hands down.

The two of them watched as David Jacobs came out of the station, getting into his car and beginning to drive off.

If there was one thing Albert was good at, it was hightailing it out of any situation…And following straight into another.

* * *

 

“What are you moping around for?” Ike asked.

Mike was sitting on the floor in the hallway that lead to one of the many random rooms of the shoe factory.

It was a big place. Jack took pride in it, having some parts of it done up to actually look like something worthwhile.

“M’not.” Mike mumbled in reply.

“Yes, you are.” Ike insisted. “What is this about? I thought we agreed that this job would be good for us. A place to stay AND a pretty sweet deal. Money, Mike, lots of it. That’s enough to ride out to the Grand Canyon AND back!”

Mike looked up at his brother. “That’s what you wanna do with your cut?”

“No.” Ike huffed out a laugh. “That’s what I wanna do with _our_ cut.”

They both looked at each other for a moment before Mike punched his brother in the shoulder as he stood up.

“You’re insane.”

“Nah, I’m just realistic. Besides, we could do whatever we wanted to. Just as long as we get to the Canyon, I don’t care what else we do.” Ike said.

Mike rolled his eyes – that was his brother. Ike gave him a smile and a family clap on the shoulder.

It was like he had said to Tommy – if Ike carried on putting the job above anything else, then he’d never live. And Mike just wanted to do that.

Maybe the dishonest life wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He no longer wanted to live in the shadows committing scheme after scheme, and if that meant he was out of the deal…Then that was just how it would be.

“Now, are you coming?” Ike said.

Mike nodded. He’d give it a while before he said anything.

* * *

 

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back.” Sarah said.

Tommy sighed in content as she cuddled closer to him, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.

This was way to intimate for his liking, but he had been kind of lonely recently, so he was against it. It was just better that this was all part of the job.

The heist that Jack had been plotting for almost two years now, and they were so close to the end that he could practically taste the gold on his lips.

She kissed him.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“I don’t know…” She said, “I guess I just needed it…”

Tommy nodded, sitting up and she looked after him, longing for him to lay back down again. The fun was over, and Tommy hadn’t even gotten anything out of the woman this time, it had just been something there to make himself feel better.

“Can I tell you something?”

Tommy looked back at her, and she held his hand.

Oh god, was she gonna cry?

“Sure.” Tommy said.

Sarah sat up next to him, holding the duvet across her chest as she leaned her head on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think…I’m going to lose my little brother.” She said, and that’s when the waterworks started.

Tommy had never been great at comforting people, so what came out next wasn’t his greatest accomplishment. “Then put a leash on him and he won’t go anywhere.”

The silence that followed had Tommy thinking that Sarah was about to throw him out – or even punch him. But instead, she started laughing.

It was wet and pathetic, but it was a laugh none the less.

“Thank you.” She said.

“For what?”

“For not saying ‘I’m sorry’ like everybody else does. It just makes it harder.”

Tommy nodded. He hadn’t lost anybody before, in fact, he was the one who had been lost. He’d walked out of his family’s life and he hadn’t looked back.

“Guess I’m not like anybody else then, huh?” He said lamely.

Sarah smiled at him, leaning in and kissing him again. Tommy played back a little more this time, and he told himself that it was just because he was giving her a sympathy vote.

“What happened to him?” He asked quietly.

“He has leukemia. Treatments are slow, but they think they’ve found something that’s a great combination with the chemo…But he’s too sick right now.” Sarah swallowed around the lump in her throat. “We can’t afford any of it, it’s too much.”

Tommy held her as she cried, with what was probably the worst idea he’d ever had in his head.

* * *

 

“Well, this place is dead and no fun.” Racetrack said.

Albert nodded rather sadly. “I wonder what he’s here for.”

Race shrugged. “I don’t know, and I also don’t care. Let’s go and get bagels.”

Albert continued watching as David got out of his car – which had taken him at least ten minutes to do – and walk through the ICU unit doors.

“Maybe his grandmas dying or something.” Racetrack joked.

Albert didn’t laugh though. He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

 

Albert and Tommy Boy’s eyes met as they walked down the hallway towards Jack’s room.

“You got what I got?” Albert asked.

“What? Leukemia?” Tommy said.

“Jesus…What’s going on Tommy?”

Tommy continued looking at him as they stopped outside of Jack’s door.

“We have a way in, and I don’t think you’re gonna like it.” Tommy said.

“But he is?”

“He’s gonna love it.”

“And you?” Albert said, “Do you love it?”

Tommy swore he didn’t have feelings for the barmaid, but they had a connection that he didn’t want to just throw away.

They opened the door.

Jack turned around in his chair like the classic Godfather movies. “Hey, fellas. What’ve you got for me?”

“This isn’t 1920.” Tommy commented.

Jack smirked.

Now Albert could see why Tommy was Jack’s go to. He didn’t care about anything – but Tommy hadn’t answered his question about the barmaid.

“Well?”

“You’re gonna love what dirt we’ve got. You wanted a way to hook this detective guy onto our side? Well, we got one.” Tommy said.

“I mean, I thought keeping him away from all of this was the best bet, but then I realized that, keeping him on the inside…Now, that’s the best bet.” Jack nodded at them both. “So, how are we gonna do it?”

Tommy smirked at him, but Albert didn’t look too impressed.

“Detective’s little brother is sick; he needs money to pay for his care. I say we get him hooked on a bit of the fine life, Kelly.”

Jack laughed, “I love it! That’s what I’m talking about!”

He stood up from his chair, enthusiasm echoing inside of him.

“And then he can keep us undercover during the whole operation. This is brilliant!”

Albert watched the excitement on both of their faces. “What if he says no, and he outs us all to the entire police department? Gets the feds on our asses? What then?”

Jack and Tommy shared a look.

“Then we kill him. It’s as simple as that.” Tommy said.

Albert realized that for once in his life, he was actually surrounded by people with no regret for anything they would do.

“Let’s get this stone in motion, fellas.” Jack said.

Oh, boy.


	6. A bingo moment.

Sean would say he was tired of been transported back and forth for these so-called weekly meetings with Detective Jacobs, but it honestly gave him the opportunity to try various coffees made by different people.

“You got anything good for me this time?” Sean asked as David sat down across from him.

David glared at him.

“When I bailed you out for murder-“

“Manslaughter.”

“Yeah, right. Murder. When I bailed you out for murder, I put my career on the line to find out information on a guy I’ve been chasing for years. Yet, you’ve given me nothing to work with!”

Sean only sat there, “Is that why my hands are cuffed to this table then? Because you ‘bailed’ me out?”

David had stood whilst Sean had been talking. He dragged a hand down his face before kicking over his chair in the moment.

He was frustrated, of course. He was stressed. He’d gotten nowhere with this case in all the years he’d been working on it.

“People don’t just vanish, Jacobs.” Sean said. “You’re just not looking hard enough. I told you to talk to Jack Kelly. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He’s not the guy I’m looking for, Sean!”

Sean huffed out a breath. If Kelly was playing his cards right then, he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this from inside a cell.

“Look again.” Sean said. “You look again. Strip back things piece by fucking piece if you have to, I don’t care. But I’m telling you, you’re looking in the right place for your guy.”

* * *

David went home that evening with defeat in his gut.

He had no idea what Sean meant, and most of the time, the guy spoke in riddles. He was playing him, and David needed to cut him off before he got way back into this case.

“Work got you stressed, Dave?” His sister asked him.

David sighed as he sat down at the table, looking up at Sarah after running his hands down his face.

“How’s the bar, Sarah?” He asked.

“The same.” She said. “Well, you know…except for it being a crime scene now.”

David nodded, “Yeah, except for that part.”

Sarah sat down next to him, grabbing his hand and gently holding it.

“Dave, listen…We-“

“Had some more letters from the hospital about bills?” He asked.

“Yeah, how did you-“

“I saw the pile of them peeping out from behind mom’s beloved photo of Elvis.”

Sarah sighed, “That’s why you’re the detective of the family.”

David placed his other hand on top of hers. “I’m saving up, alright? I don’t want you worrying about the bills. You or mom. And I don’t want you working in that bar either.”

“Dave-“

“No, Sarah, just listen? It’s dangerous.”

“Why is it so dangerous? You caught the bad guy-“

“Don’t say it like it’s a Bond film.” David grumbled.

“-So, what’s the issue?” Sarah asked.

“We haven’t gotten down to the bottom of it, that’s all.” David said. “Just please, think about quitting? Get a job at the diner down the street or something.”

Sarah took her hand away. “No.”

And David knew that that was the end of that.

* * *

It was late, and Sarah and his mom had long gone to bed. His mom having been in bed before he’d even gotten home that night.

He used to have a place of his own, but he’d sold it and moved back home to help pay off more of the hospital bills that were crushing his family’s bank accounts.

David sighed to himself, thinking too hard. Why didn’t things add up? He wouldn’t drop the idea that Sean Conlon’s case was involved with Francis Sullivan’s name somehow. It was mostly because, Sean carried on insisting that David had his answers right in front of him, but David really had no clue about anything.

He decided to call it a day, but as he exited the dining room out into the hallway, the letter box on the front door opened as an envelope was pushed through.

David double checked the time on his watch to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, and it was indeed, two in the morning.

He quickly unlocked the door, opening it – but all that stood before him was the night, so he closed it again. He’d expected to see somebody or catch a glimpse of the stranger that had been at his door moments ago, but there had been no trace.

David bent down and picked up the envelope seeing no address on either side. It was blank.

He opened it, reading the words over and over again:

_‘Warehouse. Today. 10pm.’_

It finally felt like he’d reached a point of bingo.


End file.
